


"a lovely night."

by ceremoany



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Hair Washing, i love my soft children, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceremoany/pseuds/ceremoany
Summary: [riff raft voice] its BAAAAAATH TIIIIIIIIIIIME





	"a lovely night."

Nesta missed bathing. Not just showering, which she felt was a cop-out to the pleasure she took in her hygiene. She missed soaking in a large tub, filled with water so hot her skin turned the color of baby pink sea shells. She missed picking out bath salts and oils that complimented each other, the bubbles and luxurious feeling of it all. The feeling of being able to relax. Let herself go in the water. 

She was thankful of the shower Feyre and her mate had installed into her Velaris townhouse a fortnight ago, so discreetly that no one had been notified of it. Nesta smelled the newness of fresh stone one day upon arriving home after running errands all day with Amren. She slowly walked up her short, spiraling staircase to find the corner of her bathroom had been fitted with a sizable shower with a frosted glass door. The tub had not been removed and though her bathroom was large enough to accommodate both the shower and large tub, she felt a twinge of disappointment that whoever was hired to do this job was not also instructed to take out the bathtub as well. It was only a reminder of another mundane thing that was tainted by the King of Hybern’s wrath. She did not notice at first, how even the little things in her life, small activities, hobbies and habits seemed to have been altered. Lightly, a small renovation, but upon closer inspection, sanded down and polished with a deep, dark blue gloss. The cast of darkness making nothing feel as it used to. Always a reminder of what she had experienced inside of that Cauldron. She knew that Feyre had left the tub as a symbol of hope, a goal to work towards, that one day Nesta would trump the fear of bodies of water, submerging herself… A small victory to accomplish to lighten her soul. Nesta laughed at that when she discovered the shower that day and the tub that remained. Annoyed with herself for ever admitting something so personal to her youngest sister. For letting her guard down enough to show her a glimpse of the wreckage that lay beyond. The chaos and endless storms that made up her mind, body and soul. How dare Feyre decide what Nesta should get over? What Nesta should deem as a beacon of hope? Nesta had all the right in the world to send Prythian screaming. To cover the entire continent with the darkness that rolled within her. She thought sometimes she might. 

For the next two weeks Nesta thought about the audacity of Feyre to leave the bathtub. Letting the rage curl around her body in thick plums of black smoke, letting lightning coat her veins, letting her blood darken. She also let the shower wash it all away. All of the hostility she felt. Nesta knew that her and Feyre were not two sides of the same coin. They were not even the same currency. Though they shared blood, though Feyre had known Nesta her whole life, she didn’t quite understand how Nesta operated. She did not know the gesture would strike sour with her oldest sister. Nesta tried to be appreciative of the sentiment, of the kindness in Feyre’s heart to wish she could enjoy something so simple again.

She padded into the bathroom one afternoon, determination taking over in her scent of peppermint and burnt sugar. She huffed at the bathtub and scowled. She was sick of the fear in her stomach every time she peaked at the tub from the shower or from walking by in the hallway. The tub seemed to stare back, saying Please fill me with warmth and put me to good use. Nesta made her way to the rim of the massive tub and knelt down on a worn stool of blackened wood to the side of the tub. The stool she used to place her buckets on. She ran her pale fingers along the cool rim. Shuttering breath was the only sound in the room for a long while. Back and fourth, back and fourth her fingers went. Dancing along the rim, down the side. Clicking her long fingernails painted a dark shade of mulberry to the tune of a child’s lullaby. Shuttering breaths evened out into deep inhales. Calming herself, calming the grey clouds forming at the edge of her mind. She sat like this until sky turned shades of orange, pink and yellow in the sky. Just her and the tub, reestablishing a trust that began to mend inside Nesta’s psyche. Long black lashes fluttered open and touched the beneath of her eyebrows. She murmured string of whispers in a language that had long been forgotten. A prayer perhaps before she reached toward that golden string attached to the fourth rib on her left side. A breeze of a touch, smoke simply passing by buried treasure. She relished in the touch, lips parting at the calm that rolled through her body, as if the storm was over and the tide was coming in to wash everything that did not belong away into an abyss. This bond… this string… felt like silk. Felt like a physical object yet not at the same time. Felt like everything and nothing, the beginning and the end. She did not dare touch it again though every atom of her being screamed to wrap herself around that thread so tightly she would become it. She knew her message would be received. 

She felt that golden thread shorten and glow bright, bright, brighter before she could hear the flap of his wings. She knew she did not have to move and if she was being completely honest with herself, she didn’t know if she could. She knew he would come to her. Like every time before, like now and like every time until the Prythian ceased to exist and they were dust floating in the endless sea of stars. Her heartbeat quickened into a gallop as his scent hit her in the chest like winds from another world. Leather and fir, warmth and strength. He was here. 

He nearly ran up the stairs and into where she sit upon her stool, hand gripped on that smooth white edge. His eyes went wide with question yet understanding as he slowed his pace until he was beside her. Kneeling on the ground, he did a quick assessment of the women in front of him. He knew she wasn’t hurt in a physical way, no, he would have felt her injury tenfold and stopped the world to get to her before she had any chance to be harmed again. Yet he still let his body relax the slightest when he confirmed yet again, in person, she was untouched. Relief and reassurance flowed through the bond. 

“Cassian,” she whispered, eyes now closed again, her forehead touching her hand that was still wrapped around the tub edge. “I want… I want to take a bath.” Her eyes opened. “Alone.” She tried snapping, before he got any ideas, but her voice was but an angered whisper. “Please keep me safe.”  
He broke into millions of pieces. He covered the earth, falling in flames, he heated the air until the tears on cheeks were steaming, until wings were melted off of backs, until the dead screamed for release. He laid a hand over her’s that was gripped to the tub and she sank into herself at the warmth of that hand. Cassian looked into her grey eyes. He offered himself to her entirely with his stare and her eyes fluttered close in gratitude and back open again.  
“I will keep you safe, Nesta.” Casein said, voice hoarse.  
“If you don’t…” Nesta couldn’t finish. Her guard was already down without her permission and she hadn’t the strength or will to haul it back up. She wasn’t ready to go back to the sharp edges, the grey stone, the armor, the iron gates of will and quick witted remarks. Not when the bond hummed and caressed her insides, filling her with peace and softness.  
“No fire for me today, my love?” Cassian let his eyes light up, sides of his full lips quirk upwards as his thumb slid across the backside of her hand, letting her know that he would not take advantage of her vulnerability.  
I’ll show you fire alright… She grumbled down the bond.  
Cassian fully smiled then, throwing his head back and huffing a breathy laugh as he got off his knees and let go of her hand.  
“Let’s get you up, princess of darkness.” He slid his left hand under her arm and his right hand on her lower back. She felt the heat beneath his hands again and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into it. Cassian ached to step closer to her but refused. Not now. Not the right time. “Do you want me to turn around?”  
Nesta’s pupils flared for a heartbeat before she nodded. Cassian turned on a heel and covered his eyes for extra measure. It seemed silly but he would find a witch to blind him in that moment if it made Nesta feel more comfortable. She began peeling off her long sleeve shirt with a neckline that nearly reached her jaw. Tossing the shirt to the floor with the flick of her wrist, she moved to her pants of chiffon and slid them off her full hips and onto the floor. Clad in her black underwear and a deep red band around her breasts, she could not bring herself to take off anything else. She reached out a hand to Cassian’s shoulder. He turned around before more than one of her fingertips brazed the leathers that covered his upper body.  
Beautiful. She thought, the way his bronze skin seemed to glow in the deepening orange sky. His dark curls swaying around his face like they were cradling the rough-hewn face. His hazel eyes looked at only her face and amusement flickered after a brief assessment of her features.  
“Me? So I’ve been told.” His smile was all teeth, eyebrows set in smugness.  
Pink bloomed on her cheeks to accompany the hint of it left in the sky. Gods dammed bond.  
“Turn on the tub already, you idiot.” Nesta said with as much fierceness as she could rally. “I like it near boiling point.”  
Hands up in submission, Cassian moved across the bathroom, carefully studying the tiles so his gaze wouldn’t roam Nesta’s body.  
“As you wish, my love.”  
Nesta padded to the cabinet near the door while Cassian fumbled with the bath faucets. It was filled with bath salts and oils, body soaps, shampoos and softening lotions for the hair. She picked out a vanilla scented bath oil. “Here,” she called to Cassian. “Put a few drops of this into the water.” She tossed him the small bottle and again emphasized, “A few!” knowing he would likely dump half the bottle into the tub if she didn’t pound bathtime etiquette into him. She went back to her product picking, needing a soap that would compliment the oil and decided on a raspberry soap that Elain had bought her.  
Nesta tip toed back to the tub. Back to Cassian.  
Oh gods, she thought. What in the hell am I doing?  
She was careful to keep her stream of panic from leaking into the bond but Cassian saw the look on her face. The fright. He saw her fists clenched like stones. He noticed her shoulders roll in, and her frame begin to retreat before those small feet did. He lightly tugged at the bond. Unyielding support.  
Come back to me.  
Her eyes snapped to his, purely feral. Defensive. A panther on its way to retreat, knowing it’s opponent would end it. He ran another touch along the bond. This time more demanding, requiring her attention from those thoughts crumbling her from the inside. He would not let the water wash her away.  
Come back to me.  
She slowly, so slowly, like a rose petal moving in honey, went to him. She handed him the raspberry soap and he sniffed it as he reached for her hand. “Why Nesta, you’re going to smell like a pastry by the time this is over. I might just have to eat you.”  
He saw blood return to her cheeks, her lips, saw a darkness behind her eyes get cast away, ever so slightly. Coming back to him, little by little.  
“Are you ready?” He asked her quietly. A squeeze of her tiny hand in his was her answer as she gazed into the bath water. They walked hand in hand to the tub and he almost asked if she would want him to lift her in, then cursed himself at the thought. Why the hell would she want that when those motherfuckers at Hybern did the same thing? Nesta’s breaths turned ragged and she tried to calm herself over and over again, failing. She did the only thing she knew that would stop the dread and panic. She loosened her hand from Cassian’s and gripped his wrist. Her hand ran up his massive arm, over his shoulder, collarbone, chest, until she reached the area above his heart. Nesta’s hand rest there and her eyes fluttered shut. His heartbeat kept her grounded. Knowing that if he was here, in the flesh with her, she would never be harmed again. He would not let that happen. She removed her hand and laid her forehead in its spot. In and out, she breathed, slower and calmer. He succumbed to his instinct the bond had planted in him-no-not the bond. The universe. The mother, the cauldron, the gods of every kind, and fate itself had planted this instinct in him. The need to make her feel safe, the urge to make her feel protected, the desire to make her feel loved. His hand slipped to the small of her back and his other to the back of her neck. She softened into him like melting marshmallow, like laying upon new furs for the first time. Nesta placed a kiss on the leathers covering Cassian’s chest. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times. Six times. He broke with each kiss and each one formed him anew. His eyes shut and his grip on her tightened. Cassian leaned his head down and kissed her hair an equal amount of times. She leaned back in his arms, steel grey eyes meeting the browns and greens that formed a forest. She nodded once. His arms begrudgingly loosened around her, though their hands held tight. He felt like he might implode if he lost contact with her in this moment. Nesta took a deep breath and lifted her pale leg into the water. Her toes slipped past the surface and she gasped. Cassian gripped her elbow, prepared to embrace her if she were to fall back but she pauses only once. Continuing her journey of taking back a small fragment of what Hybern stole from her. Her flesh disappears beneath the bubbles and she lifts her other leg in. The water is up to her shoulder blades before she’s comfortably sat, still hand in hand with the male who keeps her grounded. She lets out a low moan and Cassian can practically hear every drop of blood in his body sing. He bends sideways to grab the stool for him to sit on next to her.  
“Cassian,” she whispers. So softly. He can practically feel her stress melting off of her. She is glorious, he thinks. And strong. “I forgot my shampoo. Get one out of the cabinet, will you?”  
He slowly lets go of her hand and does as he’s told. “Which ones are those? You have the whole lot in here.”  
She snorts, “Square ones.”  
He picks out a pale purple shampoo that smells of lavender and honey.  
“Ah, keeping with the pastry theme, are we?” Nesta says as Cassian hands her the square.  
“I wasn’t kidding when I said that.”  
“Haven’t you already ate tonight, you big oaf?”  
“I can always make room for desert. For you.” A wicked grin spreads across his face and she rolls her eyes. He smiles even wider at that.  
Her small hand emerges from the water, colored seashell baby pink, and she grabs the raspberry soap off the ledge and begins washing herself. She is in awe that she has come this far but the bliss overrides the shock and she soaks in every detail of how amazing she feels. She nuzzles down into the back of the tub until everything below her lips is submerged. Nesta stays like this for a long time, nothing but pure enjoyment for this moment.  
“Will you wash my hair for me?” She says sleepily.  
“I’m at your service, always.” Without warning Nesta dips below the surface, bubbles escaping her nose but she’s back up in a second, skin gleaming, hair completely wet.  
Eyes wild yet… calm.  
Cassian can’t help but smile. He positions his stool so sit to her back so he can properly wash her hair. He grabs the lavender and honey soap and runs his fingers up her neck and into her thick mess of golden brown hair, separating it into sections before he starts working the shampoo bar into it. She’s covered in suds and so sure that he would have been better at the amount he used considering he has long and thick hair himself but she’s purring nonetheless as he works in the sweet smelling lather.  
A panther lying on its back in a meadow, Cassian thinks, with a hunter scratching its belly.  
He begins rubbing her scalp with his fingertips and he can basically feel her falling apart in his hands. He moves slower, savoring every damn second of this gift he was given. Nesta is a mess of shutters and sighs and lets out an Mmmmmm. Cassian clamps his mouth shut or else he’s positive hell let out a groan. He finishes up and begins cupping water in his hands to wash the lather out of her hair and Nesta grabs his wrist when he’s done and tilts her head back until she can see those eyes. Her eyes are wet and she’s hoping he’ll just think its water.  
“Thank you.” No more than a whisper from her. “For not just this, but everything.”  
“Always. Always, for you.”  
“Likewise.”  
Cassian leans down to kiss her damp forehead. Then her nose.  
“Let’s get you out of here before your water goes cold.” 

They spend the rest of their night on Nesta’s living room floor, right in front of the fire place on a pile of the fluffiest blankets Cassian could find in her hallway closet. Nesta’s body is so loose with bliss and relaxation that all she had the energy to do is smile at the kisses she allows Cassian to give her cheeks as he tells her embarrassing stories he’s racked up about the inner circle throughout the years. A perfect night, they both think though they do not say it aloud, but through their bond.


End file.
